


Masquerade — Carlyle Tsukiqirusa, the Royal Guardian

by The Firelight Magus (Crystalliced)



Series: Spellborne [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, Elemental Magic, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, magi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalliced/pseuds/The%20Firelight%20Magus
Summary: The coming-of-age of a young magical prodigy with immense responsibilities to her country, Arcacia, and King, her dear childhood friend.There's just one problem.Carlyle hates Arcacia.(Does not spoil Spellborne, and can be read separately from it).6/6 -- Overhauled. :)
Series: Spellborne [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682548
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

#  **Prologue**

_Magic, the power of miracle-making. Armed with little more than a wand and the Lightbringer’s blessing, even a simple human can create something meaningful._

_..._

The room I call home is simple enough — a bed rests on one side, with a desk against the wall next to it. Against the adjacent wall stands a large wooden drawer to hold my personal effects, and a sheathed sword leans against the wall. A circular, knee-height table in the middle of the room holds dozens of glass figurines. 

Leaning down, I pick one up from the table. A simple, unenchanted construction, but perhaps my best work yet — a model of a tall young woman with violet-tinted hair and red glass eyes, carefully pieced together with precise, delicate magic. A model of myself. 

It isn’t easy at all to be an artisan of glass. Glass is fragile, delicate, and suffers from a pitifully low ability to channel magic. The slightest loss of control is sufficient to shatter it, and as a result only the skilled — and the _blessed_ — are able to magically craft it. 

To work with that caliber of material, nearly every prospective artisan needs to undergo the Magitsuna, a year-long ritual that lowers the amount of mana a magus can work with at once. Though you become a weaker magus, you gain a level of precision that is unachievable without it, and it’s a critical ritual for anyone who wants to use their magic for fine art. 

But I was born with a gift — _exceptional_ control, good enough to manipulate glass with relative ease even _without_ the Magitsuna. With work and the artificial precision of the Magitsuna, perhaps I could have been one of the great artisans of the world, a master glassworker.

Thanks to my lineage, though, I’m not allowed that. Instead, I am being forced to undergo the Magikana, which shreds control at the cost of raw power by raising the amount of mana I can work with. In just under four weeks, I will undergo the final preparations to seal my dream forever.

I tilt the glass figurine, the light bending to reflect my face.

Every month, I undergo ritual milestones for the final session. With every milestone, my magic grows a little wilder. I haven’t dared to attempt glass-crafting in a month, ever since the last attempt exploded in my hands. 

My grip tightens on the glass figure, and I hastily set it back down before I crush it on accident. 

But there’s other rituals I’ll have to undergo, too. Strength, speed, stamina, rituals that sap away at my life to make me stronger. I wouldn’t be able to spend the time mastering my craft even if I somehow maintained the control. 

Fifty years old. That’s how long I can expect to live. In a week, I’ll be eighteen — so I’m halfway there, already. Halfway there, and it only goes downhill from here. 

Now, I can barely stand to look at the glittering glass. Gritting my teeth, I snatch a metal case off of the desk and storm out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the people I'm pulling here that aren't typical A03 users:  
> This is a multi-chapter work, so you can press 'next chapter' to keep on reading.  
> If you like the story, please press that 'Kudos' button! It's this website's equivalent of a Like.


	2. Preshow, Part One

#  **Preshow, Part One**

The locker room is plain and unadorned, containing only a row of wooden lockers and a long bench. I set the case down, snapping open the clasp with practiced ease. 

Reaching in, I draw out the first of the two weapons within — a sleek, glimmering bone-white dagger with a blade the length of my forearm and a stylized sun engraved in the handle. _Sol._

My other hand pulls out the second blade, nearly identical in design, save for the fact that it is jet-black instead and sports an engraved crescent moon. _Luna._

The Bonded Pair, are a famous set of knives that only master weapon enchanters can even hope to create. Ultra-thin and razor sharp, they are layered with subtle enchantments to ensure that they can stand up to even high-level destructive magic, that they shall not rust or wear, and most importantly, that they shall always return to each other. Quite literally — Sol will call Luna back to it, and Luna can warp to Sol. And should its User be holding either knife as they return to each other, they’ll be taken along for the ride.

They’re an iconic weapon for any high-level bodyguard due to their useful abilities. Though as useful as they are, the process of learning how to use two knives that want nothing more than to be together is long, exhausting, and filled with many unintentional stab wounds. At the ‘behest’ of my father, I have been forced to master them. Since it doesn’t take much active magic to use them, they’re ideal weapons to train with while my magic is on vacation. 

They won’t be sufficient against the caliber of opponent I’m about to face, though. At least, not if I were to fight him to the death. 

As if called by my thoughts, the exit door to the locker room is kicked in. I don’t flinch, having expected the man to get impatient. Soon enough, a tall, white-haired knight stands in front of me. Though he’s armed with little more than a basic weapon, a pair of steel bracers, and simple black cloth clothing, he still manages to cut an imposing figure. One hand twirls his trusted mage-blade, the thin, unadorned sword suited best for channelling magic. 

“You plan on coming out anytime soon?” He asks gruffly.

“Give me a moment.” I mutter. “It’s been a while since I’ve picked these up.” 

Eryn Tsuzera. One of my mentors, and probably the one I’m closest to. He’s a powerful, respected mage-knight, capable of going toe-to-toe with me in a way few others can match. 

The way that I am now, though, even an amateur magus could probably take me down. One of the side effects of the monthly ritual milestones is that for about a week or so after, my magic is especially volatile. Using it is highly unadvised if I want to avoid tearing myself apart, which is why I’m fighting with Sol and Luna in the first place. 

Frankly, I’d rather not fight at all. But I know better than to say so. I've thought to complain about it before, after all, and he'd responded—

_“You should know better, Carlyle, especially as the future Royal Guardian. There is no surrender...unless, of course, you really aren’t anything great at all. Just another complacent magus, blessed with gifts they don’t deserve.”_

My blood still boils thinking about it, even months after he’d said those words to me. Channeling my anger, I tighten my grip around the blades, push the case closed, and gesture towards the exit.

“Get out of my way so I can get this over with.”

He smirks, exiting the room. I follow him. 

...

It’s hours later when we finally stop, dusk upon us by the time we re-enter the majestic stone castle that I call home.

“That was a bit uncalled for, wasn’t it?” Eryn asks ruefully, one hand touching his recently-healed nose. He’s escorting me back to my room, three floors up. 

“You pissed me off.” I retort. “You should have known better than to compare me like that. Again.”

“Yes, yes, Lady Tsukiqirusa.” He simpers mockingly. “My sincerest apologies.” 

I scowl in response, a hum in my magical senses directing me to take an unexpected left in the labyrinth-like corridors. 

“Good job, though.” He says, clapping me on the shoulder once. “Hurry up and recover so I can play a little more seriously, alright?” 

“Hmph. If you’re so eager for another ass-kicking, then I suppose I could—” As we round the corner, we encounter another pair of people I’m familiar with, Edward Tarake and Katarina Tsukiri. The former is a black-haired man with striking green eyes, dressed in simple but elegant black clothing with violet trim. The latter is a long-haired redhead, warm emerald eyes widening in surprise. 

“Well met, Lady Tsukiqirusa, Lord Tsuzera.” Katarina curtsies, but my eyes are on the man next to her, looking him up and down to ensure that he is well. He catches my gaze, smiling slightly at me, and I return the gesture. 

“Prince Tarake.” Eryn bows first to the man across from her, then to the woman. “Lady Tsukiri. Charmed.” 

“You are dismissed, Lord Tsuzera.” The Prince says, a polite smile on his face. “Thank you for bringing me my lost lamb.” 

My smile becomes a little more fixed. 

He snorts. “Anytime.” Nodding to me one last time, he wanders off, stretching languidly. 

The second he disappears around a corner, I narrow my eyes. “Your lost lamb, Ed?” 

“You do run away a lot when I’m trying to look for you...especially when we have important meetings scheduled.” He scolds playfully, smiling. I roll my eyes, but am prevented from retorting when a pale hand slaps his shoulder lightly. 

“Edward.” The other woman sighs ruefully, a gentle smile on her face. “Stop harassing Lady Tsukiqirusa, would you?”

“By your leave, Katarina.” He replies warmly, to which she flushes prettily. I suppress another eye-roll.

It’s sometimes hard to remember that the idiot man poking fun at me, my childhood friend, is going to be the future King of Arcacia. Still, though, it is my responsibility as Royal Guardian to protect him...and that, as far as I am concerned, includes protection from those who don’t deserve him.

The woman escorting him, Katarina, is one such person. Her magic is pitifully weak for her age — seventeen, less than a year underneath the two of us — and she is about as far away from a proper noble as can be. 

No, scratch that — she’s _too_ noble, rather. Too much a perfect doll of a girl. Ed deserves someone more _interesting_ than her, and someone who will push him forward instead of hold him back. Naturally, though, the damn fool’s fallen hard for her, and there’s not much I can do as a result. 

“It is his prerogative. And he is right, I _should_ be escorting him everywhere.” I say dryly as Kat leans forward, taking one of my arms in her hands. Slowly, her magic comes to life in her hands, analyzing my injuries.

“It seems you’ve been working hard as always...” She mutters. “Look at how bruised you are.”

Ed chuckles. “That’s just the way she works.” Then he turns to me. “Although I’ll sorely miss your company, I imagine you want to go and lie down now, so I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

_Bless your soul._

“I don't think so.” A voice says from behind us. I mentally sigh, turning to come face to face with one of the few people who can pull rank on me — the current Royal Guardian of Arcacia. His hair is a dark black, cropped short. But we share many similarities — sharp facial features, tall, lean bodies, and the same piercing crimson eyes. 

“Good evening, Royal Guardian.” I say tightly, clamping down hard on my emotions. “Surely you have more pressing matters to worry about?”

“The King is quite safe in his bedchambers with his beloved.” The man retorts. “And ensuring that the future King is properly protected is an important secondary objective. Surely I was not hearing that you were — or have — been abandoning those duties for petty reasons.” 

“With all due respect, my Lord, Lady Tsukiqirusa’s bruising is quite severe.” Kat interjects, to my surprise. “With her magic scrambled from the effects of the Magikana and, therefore, eliminating magical healing as an option, she should take a filling meal and get a good night’s sleep.” 

“Your concern is appreciated, Lady Tsukiri, but I’ve trained her to perform her duty under any circumstance, and something as paltry as this should not stop her from accompanying Prince—” 

“Nevertheless,” she says sternly, “She should still rest. I am quite sure that Prince Tarake will be safe in the castle without her overview for a night, since it is the personal judgment of the Royal Guardian that the castle is secure enough to leave his King unattended, no?”

_He looks furious. But she’s not backing down, either!_

“It would seem so.” He says, then pivots sharply on his heel. “Very well. Let us hope that your foolishness does not end the royal line prematurely.”

And then there’s just the three of us again, the man walking away haughtily. I glance at Katarina, surprised, only to find her eyeing me with an exasperated smile.

“I wasn’t joking about putting you to bed. But we should eat first, shouldn’t we?” 

_She looks completely unruffled!_

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone stand up to Lord Tsukiqirusa like that.” Ed says, sounding shocked. “Except for my own father, maybe.” 

“Want to swap?” I ask dryly, bitterly glaring at where the Royal Guardian retreated. “Yours is way better.” 

“You can really hear the family resemblance.” He snarks, smirking. I turn my glare to him, but he brushes it off. 

"Well, I will see about getting us dinner." Kat volunteers. "Edward, please ensure that Carlyle doesn't hurt herself again."

"Sure." He nods, that shit-eating grin on his face again. Smiling, the redhead walks off in the direction of the kitchens. 

_If she can stand up to my Father like that, perhaps I need to rethink my opinion of her after all._

  
  



	3. Preshow, Part Two

#  **Preshow, Part Two**

While Katarina goes off to get food, Ed and I retreat to my room. A little bit of magic clears off the glass figurines off the table, temporarily relocating them to the top of the drawer. Sitting on my bed and wincing at the bruises Eryn left me with, I move over as Ed takes a seat next to me. 

“You’ve been especially irritable lately as a result of the Magikana, haven’t you?” Ed says bluntly. 

“How observant.” I retort dryly. 

Before I can react, he leans over and gently flicks the side of my head. “Stop that, alright? We’re all friends, here. Well, you and I, at least. I won’t make you get along with Katarina, but I’d prefer it if you could.” 

I huff. “Fine.”

“She wants to be friends with you too, you know.” He leans against the wall. “She’s just not sure how to connect with you...especially because you’ve been rather prickly, recently.” 

I shrug. “I was surprised that she stood up for me like that.”

“Didn’t think she had it in her?” He asks knowingly. I do my best to keep a blank expression on my face and fail miserably. “She surprised me, too...but she's stronger than she looks.” 

“Hm.” I hum, unconvinced. Still, though, I can’t help but wonder—

Just what has that girl been through to develop that kind of backbone? 

In my experience, much of the nobility are spineless cowards when presented with any real challenge — the easy lives that most are given leaves them utterly unprepared for anything that requires actual work. The exceptions are typically elites, war veterans, and mage-knights and the like — people who have actually worked for their position. 

“I’m more surprised she stood up for me at all.” I mutter. “I haven’t been that nice to her.”

“You don’t treat anyone that well. It isn’t hard to tell.” He retorts, brow arched. “But that’s just the way you are. She probably doesn’t take it personally.” 

I grimace. “She’s...that’s a strange attitude to have.” 

“No.” Ed disagrees firmly. “You don’t always see it because of your blunt nature, but there are more people willing to put aside the pretentious formality of nobility than you think.” 

“If you say so.” I reply, unconvinced. 

_Or maybe they’re just trying to gain favor with you, Future King Tarake._

Still, though, that isn’t something I should voice out loud, so I search for something else to say— 

“Edward, could you open the door? My hands are full!” 

_Saved by the girl._

“Alright!” He quickly makes his way over, then relieves Kat of one of the trays of food she’s holding. It does smell nice — I haven’t eaten since well before my spar with Eryn, so it’s been hours. Soon enough, we’re digging in. It seems that everyone is rather hungry, since we’re almost done before anyone speaks up. 

“This is the first time I’ve been in your room.” Kat remarks to me. “Did you make those yourself?” She gestures to the crystalline flower I had been looking at earlier. 

Ed winces. 

“Yes.” I say stiffly. “I did. Do you like them?”

She nods brightly. “I do! Actually, while we were eating, I was wondering if I could commission you to make me a few pieces. I, ah...” She averts her gaze, embarrassed. “I have a fully functional dollhouse, so it would be nice to have some decorations in it from you.” 

“It’s pretty impressive.” Edward agrees. “The enchantments on it are ridiculously precise.” 

Something clicks in my head. “You...have you undergone the Magitsuna?” 

She nods. 

It’s extremely unusual for someone her age to have undergone that ritual — not because it would be dangerous, like the Magikana could be, but because it permanently closes off many options for a magus. In fact, small-scale enchantments and artisan work are about the only thing you could do after such a ritual. Although that’s ideal for a career in art, it’s exceptionally unusual for someone to commit to that at such a young age.

From what I know, she’s about a year younger than me. The Magitsuna also takes a year, which means that she committed to it at the age of sixteen at the latest. But why? She should still be in training for what work you can do without a super-precise grip over your magic, even if she’s been trained from birth! 

A different part of me, though, can’t help but feel bitter. That, even if it was a potentially foolish choice, it was a choice that she had in the first place. She got to choose to become an enchantress, while I’m being forced to move away from the same path. 

Edward cringes, apparently having come to the same realization. 

“Well, certainly.” I say blithely. “So long as you order within the next four weeks, however. Afterwards, I don’t think I’ll be capable of it.” 

She blinks, then winces, understanding. “As long as you’re okay with it, then?”

I grimace. “May as well do it while I can. Sure. Just let me know what you’re looking for. And I’d like to see this dollhouse of yours sometime, too.” 

I suspect that after the Magikana concludes I won’t want to see it.

“If you want, we could go now.” She offers enthusiastically. 

“That works for me.” I agree, then glance at Ed before averting my gaze. “Coming with us, Ed?”

That’s a signal we’ve worked out between us. ‘Do the opposite of what I say’. 

“I think I’ll pass this time.” He says, smiling slightly. “I’d love to visit again with you later, Katarina.” 

She returns his smile, flushing, then quickly drags me out of the room. 

...

Katarina’s room, to my surprise, is less than a hallway away — other ladies in the castle seeking to earn his favor are supposed to be housed farther away than this. Well, at least she’s supposed to be, but based on how he interacts with her, I think she might’ve already won that race. 

_I guess he could do worse._

“Pardon me for the mess.” She opens the door to reveal a completely spotless room. I suppress a sigh and incline my head, stepping in. 

Her room isn’t so different from mine — simple furniture, though there’s a far girlier touch to everything. Subtle lavender scent wafts through the room, and her sheets are a soft shade of violet. In the middle of the room is a strangely large, fluffy fur rug, covering the wooden flooring. 

“So just how big is your dollhouse?” I ask dryly. “I don’t see it anywhere.” 

She laughs. “You’re stepping on it, actually.”

I jump off the rug. 

“Heehee, the look on your face! My apologies, but I couldn’t help myself.” Drawing her wand from her leg holster, she kneels, the wooden stick pressed against the fur. “Please give me a moment to bring it out — this process is rather hard on me.” 

I tilt my head, curious. Slowly, her magic comes to life around her, flows of energy swirling around the sapphire gemstone affixed to the tip before sinking into the rug, weaving a complicated tapestry that even I am unable to properly analyze. The carpet shimmers, and slowly but surely a vast dollhouse rises from the fur, an intricate piece of work with every piece lovingly detailed. Gasping, she falls to her hands and knees as the three-story miniature manor is fully revealed, the rug turning a glossy green.

 _A dollhouse?! This is a doll_ **_mansion_** _!_

“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. She’s panting like she’s just run a few laps around the capital. 

“Yeah.” She winces, then manages to shakily stand. “It is always exhausting to do this.” 

I blink. “Then why do it at all?” 

She turns, sweat glistening on her face as she reholsters her wand. “Because I love what I do.” She smiles brightly, eyes glittering with pride and warmth. “And I want to protect it.”

_Wait a second. She hasn’t sealed it in the rug. She’s been — that was a full materialization! With how little power she can bring to bear as a result of the Magitsuna, no wonder she’s so exhausted!_

“But — you could just seal it within something using runes, couldn’t you? You...instead you’re holding all that magic within you, all the time?”

“This is my greatest work.” She says proudly. “Don’t you have anything like that, Carlyle? Even if you’ll...even if you will lose your ability to make the most intricate of glasswork soon, don’t you have something like that?”

“I can’t say that I have anything quite like this.” I say faintly, as a bird doll flies into one of the mansion windows and falls to the ground, dazed. A moment later, it takes flight again, lazily looping around the house. 

This level of work...so this is what the Magitsuna makes one capable of, huh? That enchantment on the bird is...I’ve never seen anything like that. And it’s not a simple animating loop, either, there must be conditions that dictate its movement. I can’t even imagine how much precision it must take to do something like this! 

“You should make something that you’re really proud of.” She runs a hand reverently over the wood. “Something that you can treasure fondly, for as long as it might last.”

I contemplate her words. “There’s not much point.” I say, unable to completely suppress my bitterness. “Because once it’s gone, I will only be able to look at it with regret. It would be meaningless.” 

Katarina frowns. “It isn’t pointless, even if it will leave you soon. The efforts you put into it, the time, dedication — something created with everything you can put into it isn’t meaningless, no matter how short-lived it is! If my dollhouse was destroyed right this instant, I would be devastated, but I’d never just forget about it.” 

I flinch, taken aback by her clear passion, then recover my footing. “But it would be gone. No matter how you feel about it, it would be gone! And I won’t be able to make another one. I’ll never be able to make another one!” I glare. “Once I complete the Magikana, I’ll never be able to make what I used to ever again!” 

“Then treasure what you have left!” She retorts. “Don’t — don’t waste what time you have left thinking about what could have been! You only have four weeks—” and here she cuts off, looking genuinely sympathetic, “—so use them, Carlyle! Don’t let them go to waste, because you can’t get them back!” 

“What would you know about this?” I barely manage to avoid screaming at her, suppressing my emotions sharply even as rage bubbles up. “What would you know, Lady Tsukiri? You have what you want! You had the freedom to undergo the Magitsuna! You were allowed to chase your dream! You—” 

She slaps me. It isn’t particularly painful, but it manages to rock my head back, and I almost fall back, surprised as she turns a coldly furious gaze on me.

Almost. Then my sword slides nearly halfway out of my sheath— 

“I’m so sorry!” She bursts out, and I force myself to stay my hand. “I...I’m sorry. I don’t...I don’t know what came over me.” She bows deeply, back nearly parallel to the ground. “I know my words are insufficient, so if there is anything I can do to make up for it, then please...” 

For a moment, I almost tell her — _destroy your dollhouse, then._

But I don’t. I try, but the words don’t, won’t come out of my mouth, lodged in my throat. For some reason, I can’t do it.

“Katarina? Carlyle? I’m coming in!” 

My sword slips back into my sheath as I turn to meet Ed, his sapphire eyes wide with worry. “Are you two okay? I heard shouting, so I thought—” 

“We’re fine.” I cut him off. “She was just telling me how I was pushing myself too hard, and I’d ought to go to bed now. Isn’t that right, Kat?” 

“Y-Yes.” She says in perhaps the most unconvincing lie I’ve ever seen. Granted, Ed knows me far too well for something like this to get past him, but the alternative is talking to him about this, and I’d rather not do that. 

“And with that in mind, I will retire for the night.” As I pass him, though, he cuts me off with a hand on my shoulder. I barely resist the urge to push him off. “Are you okay, Carlyle?”

“Peachy. Is that all you have to enquire about, my Lord, or may I return to my chambers?”

The cold formality stuns him enough for me to slip out of his grip, and I’m able to get out, shut the door, and slip back down the hallway at a relaxed pace.

I enter my room. 

My wand slips into my hand, and I cast a soundproofing ward a moment later. 

Another cast seals the door. 

My wand goes away. 

A moment later, I pick up the glass model of myself and hurl it against the wall.

**“WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT ANY OF THIS?!”**

Watching the glass shards sparkle in the moonlight, I breathe in, then out. But the satisfaction I usually get from lashing out like that fails to materialize. The longer I stare at the glass, the more I feel...

...empty. There’s nothing to be found. Nothing at all. 

“Damn it...” I whisper, my vision blurring with sudden, unexpected tears. “Damn it...!” 

Sleep does not come easily.

  
  



	4. Preshow, Part Three

#  **Preshow, Part Three**

The knock at my door snaps me awake. Glancing at the window, I confirm that my father is indeed playing his petty tricks once again. 

“Come in.” I call out, one hand slipping underneath my pillow to grasp Sol and Luna. As expected, though, it’s just the usual maid, elegant brown hair tied behind her. I sit up, wincing. Apparently I was more injured than I thought I was — my whole body feels like one big bruise. But still, I’m not so hurt as to forget the usual protocol— 

“Passcode.” I demand sharply. She freezes at the doorline, and quickly recites— 

“Tsu. Ba. Na. So. Ri.” 

“Good. You may enter.”

“Thank you...Lady Carlyle.” She steps in, maid skirt brushing against the doorway. She’s a thirty-year old magus, though not nobility — perhaps a disgraced branch member of an important family? Her magic is not especially strong, but she’s a hard worker and a kind person. 

She manages to draw a smile from me despite my still-sour mood. “One day I’ll have you call me by my name only, Viola. I assume my father sent you here? There’s no emergency, since you’re not panicking...but the sun hasn’t risen yet. It is him, isn’t it?”

“Milady is insightful as always.” The maid agrees. “He wishes to inform you that you will be undergoing magical training with him at six.” 

_ Magical training? When I can’t safely utilize my magic right now? _

Turning my head, I glance at a glass clock. Five in the morning? “And I suppose you’ve been given explicit instructions to escort me out of my room and to ensure I don’t fall back asleep, right?”

She inclines her head. “I have.” Then her gaze lowers. “I do not wish to pry, Lady Carlyle, but I must ask — why is your floor covered in glass?”

I hesitate. “I dropped one of my creations.” 

She raises an eyebrow, her soft brown eyes drinking in the pattern of the shattered shards, but doesn’t pursue the subject. “In any case, I shall clean it up for you.” She reaches down, a wand materializing into her hand.

My hand twitches towards her wand. “Before you do that, I have a request.”

“Ask away, milady.” 

“Don’t throw the shards away, please.” 

She looks up at me, surprised. “You wish to keep them? I don’t think you could repair this any longer. The precision required...” She trails off. 

“I know.” I say softly. “But I would still like to.” 

“If you insist, milady.” A whispered incantation creates a small wooden box for the glass, and another gathers the pieces to put them inside. “Do you have a permanent container?”

“Yes.” I take a clear glass bowl off my desk, and she vanishes the box, the shards falling into it like tiny comet fragments. Melancholy floods through me as I stare at the tinted glass, sitting back heavily on my bed. 

Her words echo through my head.  _ ‘I don’t think you could repair this any longer.’  _

As she brushes the glass figurines on my desk with delicate precision, Viola’s soft, melodious voice begins humming a lullaby I can’t recognize. Moments later, a gentle, warm magic begins flowing around me, and I accept it. 

Her magic is a subtle, subtle thing — supportive, rather than invasive, cradling my bruised body and slipping underneath my magical defenses. I could resist, but it would serve no purpose — and I  _ know _ my asshole of a father hadn’t told her to do this. 

The worst of the pain ebbs away, and the sadness lifts, just for a moment. It isn’t long — ten minutes, twenty minutes, perhaps, but when she stops, the rest of my room sparkling clean, my body hums with a pleasant ache rather than a stinging soreness.

“Thank you.” I say gratefully. Viola always goes out of her way to take care of me. 

_ Those who are given the least have the motivation to work the hardest. _

Viola smiles. “My pleasure, milady. Now, you really should be getting up and out before your father decides to punish us both.” 

I groan, but start quickly preparing for the upcoming torture anyways. 

...

As I step out, a movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention — the head of a peeking maid disappears around the corner of the hallway. 

_ Was she watching for me? _

I shake my head. She was most likely sent on behalf of my father, so there’s no point in pursuing her. Instead, I decide to quickly peek into Ed’s room, the magical locks letting me in without issue. Wincing at the squeaky hinges, I quickly confirm his safety, reseal the door, then head down to the training room my father usually has us meet at. 

Unfortunately though, as I turn around and head towards the main staircase, I’m intercepted by someone I would have preferred to avoid.

“Lady Tsukiri.” I greet politely as the redhead runs up to me, looking like she has something to say.

Her breathing is a little rough — apparently the short run winded her. “Lady Tsukiqirusa, I...I’m sorry. I should not have spoken to you like that yesterday...and I shouldn’t have hit you either.” 

“Why are you apologizing again?” I ask dully. “I reject your apology. You did nothing wrong. It’s refreshing to face such honesty, especially from someone as formal as you.” 

For some reason, I can’t find it in me to even be angry at her. The emptiness of yesterday has returned, tinted with the bitter melancholy of this morning, and even remembering what Katarina told me yesterday isn’t sufficient to set me off. 

She slumps. “That’s — I...” 

“Stop.” I cut her off tiredly. “Look. It doesn’t matter. Difference of opinion, alright? I have other things to worry about right now.”

Frustration flashes across her face. This time, though, she elects not to press it. 

_ That’s right. Last time, she cut me off for asking... _

“Understood.” 

I incline my head. “Farewell, then.”

As I walk past her, though, she reaches out an arm — not touching me, but enough to make her intent clear. “I hope to see you later.” She hesitates. “Carlyle. On better terms.” 

I glance back at her, surprised, but she departs before I can make eye contact with her. Frowning, I continue on my way.

Thankfully, Viola’s blessing from earlier means that the three-story flight to the first floor doesn’t hurt too much, but the lingering pain is just more proof that my father’s idea of ‘training’ is most likely to be especially agonizing. I head down carpeted halls and magically-lit torches before stopping in front of a certain door. Though the door appears to be made out of wood and the walls surrounding it out of decorative stone brick to the untrained eye, I know that it is actually forged out of runewoven iron. 

“Cease your stalling and enter at once.” My father’s voice calls out. Grimacing, I do as he says, closing the door behind me. Once it’s firmly shut, the door warps, expanding before seamlessly melding with the wall. Now, the room is completely sealed. 

It isn’t a large room at all — a five meter box at most, smaller than my bedroom. Inside, the walls, floor, and ceiling are plain stone brick, but underneath it is more of the runewoven iron. Thin crystals are embedded into the stone, providing a fair amount of light. A minimalist room designed to be sealed off from the rest of the castle, and perfect for containing even high levels of magical usage. 

Near the back of the room, facing the door, my father sits in a cross-legged, meditative pose. His eyes are closed, but there’s a clear sense of magical power emanating from him.

“Magical training, father?” I ask quietly. “Have you gone senile? You know that my magic is still in flux from the Magikana right now.” 

“Ignorant child.” He replies evenly. “Of course I am aware.” His eyes open, boring into mine. 

He seems to be waiting for me to ask the obvious question, so I stubbornly remain silent. After a minute of waiting, though, he finally gives. “We will be forcing your magic back into line.” 

I mentally cringe at the very thought, but don’t show any weakness. “Why?”

“To teach you how to control your magic. You’ve had eleven months to figure it out, and I am tired of waiting.” In a smooth, seamless motion, he stands to his feet, arms at his sides. 

A dozen vitriolic words well up inside of me and are forced down in the same breath. “Fine.” I prepare myself for what’s to come, my body tensing up.

“Good. You’re angry. Use it to fight me.” He waves his hand negligently, and a burst of magic slams me roughly into the stone wall behind me. Only my instincts save me from instant unconsciousness, though the sticky warmth I feel on the back of my head tells me that I haven’t quite succeeded in protecting myself.

“Reinforcement magic.” He notes idly as I scramble back to my feet, grimacing. “I see. Are you truly intent on letting me hurl you around, though?” He slams me into the wall again, so hard that I momentarily see stars. “You will not get close to me with such basic magic.” 

Snarling, I call on my Fire, lashing out as he launches another crushing wave of telekinesis. Blue flames ignite across my right arm, and I sweep the blast aside.

A moment later, the flames are abruptly snuffed out as my power rebels out of my control. I gasp as the lingering energy leaves behind painful burns, sparks of magic sizzling up and down my arm. 

“Is that all you can manage?” My father asks, disappointed. “Some fragile B-ranked magic?” He trains his wand on me. A moment later, I’m lifted into the air by an invisible grip around my throat. Clawing at it with my bare hands does no good, so I channel more fire around my throat, focusing on my desperation— 

_ How’s this for low-level magic!? _

His magic dissolves once again under the weight of my wandless casting, and I fall heavily to the floor, wreathed in flames. A moment later, I push the magic away from me, my father blocking the wave of heat with a simple red-tinted energy shield. 

“Better.” He mutters as I collapse on my hands and knees, paralyzed by pain. “You withstood the magical backlash this time.” Hearing footsteps, I look up. He’s drawn his sword, and even now is slowly approaching me. “But still insufficient. If this is all you can muster, then Prince Tarake would be better off without you.” 

Snarling, I dig my hands into the ground. A pillar of orange fire erupts underneath his feet, but is parried as he grinds his foot into the ground, the flames washing off of him harmlessly. A moment later, he lands a bone-breaking kick into my shoulder that slams me back into the wall once more. Agony lances through me as he raises his sword. Eyes wide, I roll away, his blade gouging into the stone where my head just was. 

_ He’s really trying to kill me! _

Magic and adrenaline surges through my body, power gathering into my hands as I jump to my feet, my wounds forcefully knitting themselves together. He chases after me and slashes diagonally down at me, so I respond by violently shoving aside the flat of the blade with an arm, darting in, and punching him in the chest with an empowered, fire-wreathed fist. He’s hurled back into the far wall, the stone cracking in all directions, but easily gets up in time to dodge my follow-up blast of flame that turns the stone brick into slag. 

“Good, Carlyle!” He shouts. “Do you feel it? Feel the magic flow through you! Tame it! Make it yours—” 

He deflects a five-pointed star of fire into the ceiling, a glimmering silver barrier blocking the molten stone dripping onto him from the roof. 

“But—” He lunges forward, brutally striking me in the stomach and forcing the air from my lungs as I slide backwards. My half-formed spell dissipates, disrupted as paralysis races through my body. I only manage to maintain my footing through sheer will. 

“Control is key.” He steps forward with a hand outstretched between us, keeping a translucent golden shield between us. “Power is meaningless without an iron grip on your magic. You have made progress, but—” 

I lash out with a hand, a bolt of malevolent crimson energy flying off my fingers. It shatters his shield like glass and carves a line into his cheek. Hissing in pain, he brushes his finger along the burn before thrusting his arm back out at me, and a moment later a wave of force  _ crushes _ me into the wall with overwhelming strength.

I black out.

  
  



	5. Preshow, Part Four

#  **Preshow, Part Four**

I regain consciousness a few moments later to pitch-black. Everything hurts. I try to stand, then realize that my feet are not touching the ground. 

_Oh. I’m...stuck in the wall._

“You have much to learn.” My father says softly. Light streams into the room as he unseals the door, pushing it open. “But you are not completely hopeless, I suppose. Clean yourself up before you leave.”

Uncharacteristically quietly, he closes the door, plunging the room into darkness. Grimacing, I realize that I’ll need to use magic, since my body is definitely not capable of pulling itself out of the hole I’m stuck in. And, more than that, my head hurts something fierce right now.

_If...if I concentrate very, very hard on what I need to do...my Telekinesis Sorcery should be sufficient. I might even be able to avoid magical backlash._

_No, Carlyle. There’s no ‘should’ or ‘might’ here. There is no surrender. Just do it._

Wriggling my extremities, I’m relieved to find that I can at least move my fingers and toes. I clench my fist and focus. Abruptly, I’m ejected out of the bricks, falling heavily on my hands and knees. A spasm runs through my arms, but it’s not enough to make me collapse. 

_Come on. You can do it. Just take it slowly._

Another quick burst of telekinesis pushes me backwards and up, letting me regain my footing, but my legs are shaking from the strain of holding me up. More importantly, though, I’m able to use the position to go for my waist holster with as little movement as possible. Drawing my wand — a fairly thick rod crafted from a light metal called pyrolite — I silently conjure a walking stick out of the shattered stone brick, fusing it together before bringing it underneath my other hand. 

“Okay...” I pant. “Almost there...” 

Each step is a struggle, sending shocks of pain lancing through my tired body. At least nothing’s broken, though — healing isn’t my forte, and although I managed it instinctively in the heat of battle, I would not trust myself to try it again, as hurt as I am.

As I approach the door, it swings open from the other side. My magic wells up, preparing to protect me—

But it’s just — _again?!_ — Lady Tsukiri, her emerald eyes wide as she takes in my condition — torn clothes, bleeding wounds, and shaky legs. 

_This is getting ridiculous. Is she following me around?_

“Do you need something?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible. It doesn’t seem to convince her by the way she takes a step forward, her own wand slipping into her hand. 

“What happened to you?” She breathes out. A moment later, light begins to glow from the tip of her wand, giving her more light to see with. “Lightbringer...you’re an absolute mess.” 

“Thank you.” I manage to get out between harsh pants. “Anything,” I flinch, “Else you’d like to point out?”

She blinks, surprised. “Your magic...it’s...” 

“Better, yes. Not fixed.” I respond. She reaches out, clasping my arm in her hands, and a pulse of magic ripples through my tired body. It hurts a bit, but the pain her soothing magic alleviates distracts me from the rest. 

“How? I thought that you couldn’t?” 

“How else?” I ask rhetorically. “By forcing my magic to support me or die trying.” 

“Ah.” She says faintly. Thankfully, she realizes that I’m not in the mood to answer questions right now and focuses on healing me. When she backs away a few minutes later, I’m still a bit stiff, but that’s far better than the stabbing pain of before.

“Thank you.” I say genuinely, most of my irritation gone as I reholster my wand. I can tell that she’s exhausted herself trying to heal me, and it’s impossible to be angry when faced with such good intention. 

She smiles sadly. “It’s the least I could do.” 

I shake my head. “Still on about that? It’s fine, really.” 

_Honestly, I’m too tired to give a damn. She probably meant well, after all. Pursuing the argument further is just a waste of effort. I have other things to worry about._

She nods, then steps out of my way to let me past. Dropping the staff behind me, I close the door, leaving the mess for a maid to clean up. Walking still hurts a little, but I’m confident I can make it to my bed unassisted.

Unfortunately, it seems that Katarina has taken it upon herself to escort me. Thankfully, though, she doesn’t bother me with conversation — the trek back up to the third floor and to my room is silent. Soon enough, I’m able to limp into my room, Katarina standing outside. 

“Well...have a good rest, Lady Tsukiqirusa.” 

I sigh. “You called me Carlyle this morning, didn’t you?”

“Uhm...yes.” 

“Stick to it. You aren’t a bad person...” I trail off, trying to figure out how to phrase what I want to say. “Just overbearing, sometimes. Now, if you’ll excuse me...I’m going to go collapse on my bed.” 

I close the door. 

“Sleep well, Carlyle.” Her voice says softly from outside. 

“Thank you...Kat.” 

A few seconds later, my head hits my pillow, and I know no more. 

...

...

...

This time, when I wake up, I have the luxury of doing so slowly, peacefully. My whole body aches quite badly, but it’s a familiar burn, one of exhaustion rather than hurt. Thankfully, it’s not so bad that I can’t sit up. 

A quick spell glance at a glass clock tells me the time — it’s been a good four hours or so since I fell asleep. I’d like to sleep in more, and give my body the time to heal, but...

I frown, turning my attention inward. My injuries...seem to be mostly healed. Did someone heal me? Or, perhaps, my own magic...or maybe both? The energy flowing through my veins has calmed significantly, so it’s possible, at least...

_The lesson my father was trying to teach me...if I force absolute control over my magic, it’ll bend to my will, no matter how wild it might be right now?_

_Why couldn’t that asshole just tell me that!?_

Although I can perform telekinesis without my wand, it still makes the casting easier, and so I draw it from my holster.

_It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’d better check on Ed._

Whispering an incarnation under my breath, the drawer opens. A second incantation levitates a mirror out of the drawer before drawing it to me as I grasp it in my free hand.

“Initiate. Passcode: Tsukitarake.” Then I tilt the mirror down and wait, eyes roaming over the glass figurines on the — table? Sona must have moved them back. 

“Carlyle?” Ed’s voice comes from the mirror. “Is something wrong?”

I lean it against the wall, “Yes. Where are you?” He should be able to see me, but for some reason, my own screen is black. Is the magic being cut off? “Are you still within the wards, Ed?” 

“Er, yes.” There’s some shuffling in the background. I narrow my eyes. “It’s just rather dark. You, er, can’t see anything, right?” 

“Ed.” I say dryly. 

“Yes?”

“If you wished to take liberties with a woman, you could have just told me. Or is it a man?”

There’s distinctly feminine giggling from his side. 

“A woman.” He clarifies unnecessarily. “But, anyways, I am fine.”

“Do you have protection?” 

“Carlyle—” He cuts off briefly. “Just — what — you know I wouldn’t go that far yet!”

“Just checking.” I say, smiling slightly. “Well, be safe. I’ll check in on you within half an hour, so try to finish up by then. Although...maybe not too fast.” 

“I’m hanging up!” 

The connection cuts off a moment later. Snickering, I move the mirror to the desk, then scoot back so that I can lean against the wall. 

_Well, now what? I have half an hour to burn...but I can’t move._

I contemplate the magical artifact on my desk, then sigh. Lifting my wand again, another object levitates out from the drawer to drop into my free hand— this time, a clear glass ball about the size of my fist. 

_Am I ready for this?_

I close my eyes, and concentrate. Breathe in through the nose, breathe out through the mouth. Go through the motions, slowly but surely. 

First, I assess my magic. It doesn’t take me long — any magus worth their wand can feel the magic flowing in their blood. Mine is like a bubbling river, sinking into every fiber of my being. At times, though, it seems to spark, flaring up unexpectedly. If I’m not careful, that spark might turn into an inferno. 

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Second, my mental state. For a spellcraft like this, being calm is best. Any fluctuation of emotion might result in a similar disruption of the spell, and when working with glass, that will warp the work beyond salvation. 

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Third, my spiritual flow. Breathe in, let my magic flow through me, then breathe out, releasing it as mana into the air. From magic to mana, with my wand as a medium. The spell must be shaped perfectly if I want to make this work. So, here we go.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Although I don’t need an incantation to shape glass, sharpening my focus is always a good idea, especially with something this delicate. So I focus, focus on what I want to achieve — the first stage of my sculpture. 

“Replace what has been shattered. _Mirataka!”_

The sound of cracking glass fills my ears. Opening my eyes, I click my tongue in disapproval — although I’ve managed to begin shaping the glass, my figurine’s torso is split into three pieces.

_Unacceptable._

My wand levitates the glass back into the drawer, retrieving a new, slightly misshapen orb. 

“Replace what has been shattered... _Mirataka!”_

I’m greeted by the grating sound of broken glass once more. 

“Tch...I’ll go slower, then...” 

...

...

...

“This isn’t working.” I mutter to myself nearly an hour later. I’ve just about run out of shaped glass to break — and, to my misfortune, glass isn’t a material that can be easily fixed without more control over my magic.

Twice, I’d made it past the shaping phase. The coloring phase, however, is an incredibly delicate process that would have been tricky at the best of times. With my magic still suffering from how deep I am into the Magikana, perhaps it’s beyond me entirely.

“Or maybe I just need a different model...?”

Levitating the last glass chunk in front of me — this one’s rather larger than the others, but has a rectangular shape — I close my eyes in thought. 

I had spent months studying and mastering my own form, easily the most complicated thing I’d ever attempted to model. The human body is not perfectly symmetric, and designing myself to be flawless would have felt strange. I’d spent hours studying myself in the mirror, cataloguing every detail I could find, and had spent three weeks on making a wooden sculpture I could be satisfied with. 

Without a doubt, my own form is something I should understand, shouldn’t I? Even if I have physically grown, I still remember... 

_But still, it’s an avenue worth exploring. But what am I familiar with enough to recreate?_

I pause, then sigh exasperatedly. 

_Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in—_

My wand comes down, pointing at the glass prism. 

“Forge my mind’s image... _Mirataka!”_

I open my eyes, grinning confidently as I see the results. 

_Yes, I do know the shape of this!_

A second tap of the wand as I exhale, silent but with pure, unadulterated certainty— 

With a high-pitched ring, the glass shifts to a beautiful midnight black. 

I blink. Then I cheer, dropping my wand to pick up the onyx-colored copy of Luna with both hands. The blade is pleasantly warm to the touch and is surprisingly heavy. It’s certainly not suitable for a weapon though, no matter how many reinforcement spells one might try to layer on it. 

It isn’t quite done — I must now carefully repeat the coloring magic dozens of times to carefully replicate the exact look of the blade, and any one of them might shatter the blade, should I make a mistake — but it’s tangible progress all the same. 

“Carlyle!” 

My head snaps at the door, hand instinctively snatching my wand at Ed’s shout. “Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Are you alright in there? I’m coming in!” 

“Huh—?” 

The door opens a moment later, Ed storming in. 

“Is something the matter?” I ask dryly as Katarina follows him, apparently out of breath. 

“You — you did it.” Katarina gasps, looking at the blade in my offhand. She must be able to tell how recently the magic was casted..

“Did what?” Ed asks, confused, then glances down. “Oh, damn. Congratulations, Carlyle.”

“Thanks...but I’m guessing you didn’t barge in here just to say that?”

In response, he holds up his mirror. “You didn’t call me back, so I got a little worried.” 

“And if you had...just called her back...” Katarina pants, still catching her breath, “You would have known she was just fine.” 

I eye the girl curiously, then smile, understanding why she sounds so unusually disgruntled. “Well, at least you got your half an hour.”

They both flush violently.

“Car—” Ed begins, but I cut him off. 

“I don’t really care about your sex life.” I say for Katarina’s sake, but glance at Ed before averting my gaze briefly. He rolls his eyes, understanding what I really mean. 

_‘You’d better tell me everything later!’_

“But, as you can see, I’m all good. Nothing to worry about. I was just...” I glance at the black glass in my hand, smiling despite myself, “A bit distracted.” 

_Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as they look after all..._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Act 1! There's plenty more to go, though, so stay tuned!


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